


The New Bargain Affair

by Mrs_Spooky



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Dark, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 15:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6430216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Spooky/pseuds/Mrs_Spooky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've never done this before and this may be highly irregular, but this is a follow up to a fan fic on another site: A Bargain Kept Affair, found at http://www.angelfire.com/realm2/wayfinding/bargain.html</p><p>You might want to read A Bargain Kept Affair first THEN start this one.  I liked the story a lot but wasn't satisfied with the ending, so I'm continuing it here and giving it my own ending.</p><p>EDIT: Speaking of things I haven't done before... </p><p>Something had been nagging me about some dialog near the end and I just read it again. Made an edit that I think improves things greatly.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Appalling Lack of Judgement

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Bargain Kept Affair](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/186982) by marjatta. 



> I've never done this before and this may be highly irregular, but this is a follow up to a fan fic on another site: A Bargain Kept Affair, found at http://www.angelfire.com/realm2/wayfinding/bargain.html
> 
> You might want to read A Bargain Kept Affair first THEN start this one. I liked the story a lot but wasn't satisfied with the ending, so I'm continuing it here and giving it my own ending.
> 
> EDIT: Speaking of things I haven't done before... 
> 
> Something had been nagging me about some dialog near the end and I just read it again. Made an edit that I think improves things greatly.

Illya headed east in the vehicle they appropriated from the KGB agents that attacked them in Estonia. They had to abandon the vehicle and leave the roads to head through the woods to cross the border into Russia, then follow the coast up back towards Finland. His goal was to get Napoleon out of Soviet territory as quickly as possible, keeping an eye out for monitoring stations and random patrols. The rinse he had put in his hair to darken it was washing out from the sweat, rain, and whatever bathing they could get in, which was a problem. 

A week had passed since their escape from the ferry from Finland going to Estonia. Napoleon elected to allow his beard to grow out, Illya removing the mustache he wore as a disguise allowing his own beard to grow. The two friends managed to find lodging in a few farms scattered though the country side. While there, Illya had to do all the talking with Napoleon remaining mum, lest his foreign origin be discovered. The last home that put them up had provided a change of clothes for them including jackets belonging to a son who was in the Russian Army that fit Napoleon but were oversized for the slight Russian. They thanked the older couple profusely.

Borrowing vehicles they appropriated from smaller towns they passed through, Illya and Napoleon reached the border with Finland, abandoning the truck just short of the border where they again left the road and crossed over and out of Soviet territory. 

Breathing easier now, the partners busied themselves gathering berries to eat, Illya snagging a rabbit to cook for dinner. Napoleon was amazed at how his always hungry friend was managing to get by with so little food. Except for the meager food their generous hosts had shared with them at the farm houses, they had both barely eaten since they escaped from the ferry a week ago.

It was a chilly evening as the two partners sat close together, huddled near the campfire for warmth finishing up the rabbit Illya had caught and cooked. It wasn’t filling, but it would sustain them for a while longer. Both were trained in wilderness survival, but Illya had an instinct that surpassed their training and for that Napoleon was grateful.

Illya sat staring darkly at the crackling fire contemplating his appalling lack of judgement in not confiding in Napoleon what he was planning on doing. He was second in line for Mister Waverly’s position after Napoleon and in his mind this proved he was not fit to sit in that chair. They couldn’t continue like this. He himself was hunted by U.N.C.L.E. and the KGB, Napoleon no doubt also being hunted by UN.C.L.E. if they didn’t presume him dead. They didn’t have the money or the means to find a safe place where they could live the rest of their days and the thought of Napoleon having to live on the run because of him was too much for him to bear. He sighed and patted the envelope in his jacket pocket that contained the letter he had written the other night at the last farm house they stayed at. He was going to have to tell Napoleon this time. 

“So how does that strike you?” Napoleon asked.

Illya was shaken from his reverie, now suddenly aware that Napoleon had been speaking. “Uhhhh….” he started.

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” asked Napoleon, half teasing, half exasperated.

“Sorry. Was thinking,” Illya started. He hesitated, now was as good at time as any to broach the subject. He took a deep breath and filled Napoleon in on what he was thinking, first and foremost that he did not want Napoleon to have to live on the run because of his own mistake. Napoleon was completely innocent in this and it was no way to live. Sooner or later they WOULD be caught and the longer it went on the worse it was going to be for him. Napoleon listened attentively, allowing his friend to finish.

“I believe I have a way out of this for you. Maybe for us both, but you have to agree to it,” Illya told him. Napoleon told him he’d hear him out, what was his idea?

Illya handed over the envelope for Napoleon to read. Napoleon adjusted his position to read the letter by the firelight as Illya added another branch to increase the light. He read it silently and looked at the pages included with it. 

“You want to turn yourself in?” Napoleon asked incredulously. 

“Yes. I don’t care what happens to me. When I left with those altered documents I wasn’t planning on coming back. I knew they would come after me and I would have to stay in Russia, but I had to know if I still had family that was alive. I hated the thought of leaving you and leaving U.N.C.L.E. and the United States behind, but I had to know. Not the most stellar of ideas, but it had to be convincing enough that they would buy the fake plans I was bringing them as real,” Illya told him. “I can’t allow you to have to live this way. If we can get to Helsinki, there is an U.N.C.L.E. office there. I can have it delivered to their cover entrance to have it delivered to Mister Waverly. Maybe he’ll hear me out.”

Napoleon was doubtful. He had been growing weary of some of what he was called upon to do in his position of field agent and a large part of him didn’t mind being out of it, but he had to agree with Illya that this was no way to live. He knew he couldn’t do it for long even though he was willing to try. 

“Well,” Napoleon began slowly, “even if you don’t, I DO care about what happens to you, and I know you know that.” He handed the envelope back to Illya and resumed his seat next to his best friend pondering the course of action Illya had proposed. “This might work. It’s a good bet that you’re finished with U.N.C.L.E. Mister Waverly was adamant that you will have to be killed to remove all evidence that this even happened. But what they think has happened, actually didn’t. If he can be convinced of this, maybe you can stay on, but there’s only a small chance of that. We have to be prepared for you to be terminated from the organization. You wouldn’t have to run from them any more. The KGB on the other hand….” his voice trailed off.

“Yes, the KGB will continue to be a problem,” Illya agreed. “Unless I defected. If the United States accepts the defection of a former Soviet naval officer who is also a scientist, that is. I may prove to be a somewhat desirable addition to the United States if they'll have me. That is, if U.N.C.L.E. kept my activities private. But once they get my letter and these papers, he’ll see that things aren’t what they seemed. If he listens.”

“I think I can convince him,” Napoleon stated, having decided to go with Illya’s plan. They made plans on how they were going to get from where they were outside of Virolahti to Helsinki.

***

Waverly’s fury grew with every day that went by without communication from Napoleon. He knew he could trust Solo to find Kuryakin but he knew he couldn’t trust him to finish the job if it meant killing Kuryakin, which is why he sent those agents to follow him and finish off the Russian double agent. Now the agents he sent were dead, Solo was missing, and there was no word on Kuryakin’s status. He could not believe that Solo would go along with Kuryakin’s treason, which meant either there was more going on that he didn’t know about or Solo was dead. He disliked both possibilities, but until he heard from Solo, he was left in the dark, an intolerable situation.

He had kept it quiet about Illya’s transgression, and he was thankful that Solo and Kuryakin’s missions sometimes lasted weeks, so their absence from headquarters would not be noted by the rest of the organization for a few more days at least. Communications had inquired about the lack of contact from either of his top agents, a silence he provided what he hoped was a plausible explanation. That wouldn't continue though.

Waverly was moodily loading his pipe when Lisa Rogers entered his office to inform him that Mister Solo was at the Helsinki office and needed to speak with him. He nearly dropped his pipe as he reached for his mic, dismissing Rogers. She left the room and he answered the call, demanding an update. He listened, scowling, then disconnected and rang Miss Rogers to book him on the next flight to Helsinki.

***

Waverly entered the reception area at the Helsinki office and was handed his tag by the receptionist. He was joined by the office head as he was clipping it to his jacket.

“Ah Mister Waverly, a pleasure to see you!” Mikael Laine, greeted him. “Is your visit related to that matter that resulted in the deaths of our agents? Mister Solo is here and he insists on speaking only to you. Is he involved in this affair?”

“It is indeed,” Waverly responded seriously, shaking the hand that was offered. “And Mister Solo does have information regarding their deaths and I am here to determine what happened and why. I am very sorry about the loss of those young men, it was most unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate? Incomprehensible!” Laine responded bitterly as he walked with Waverly to the conference room where Napoleon waited. “You ordered agents sent to kill Mister Kuryakin? Why? He’s one of our most trusted, respected agents, what could possibly have happened that would require his termination in this manner?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say at this point, Mister Laine. I do hope to get to the bottom of it quickly.”

They reached the door to the conference room where Napoleon was waiting, Laine opening the door for Waverly and closing it behind him.

Napleon had had time to clean himself up at the office, but he was greatly fatigued, wearing clothing that was certainly not his own. He was relieved to find his top agent unharmed but more than that, wanted to make sure Illya was dead and the mission completed.

“Hello sir, thank you for coming,” Napoleon started. 

Waverly sat down across the table from him, setting his hat on the table, regarding his top agent closely. “I take it you failed to complete your mission to terminate Mister Kuryakin. We lost two good agents on that ferry last week and I trust you have a good explanation.”

“I do sir, but first, I must ask you to read this.” Napoleon pulled the envelope Illya gave him from his pocket and handed it to Waverly to read.

Waverly stared at it dubiously for a moment, then opened it and read.

 

_Mister Waverly,_

_First I want to thank you for reading this and I ask you to consider what I have to say. When Russia sent me to U.N.C.L.E. it was with the motive of having me work as a double agent, passing them secrets I had learned in my duties there. The fact is, I didn’t. I periodically had to send them information, but anything i sent was of no consequence, not even secrets at all. Over the years, they grew tired of my not following orders. I swore an oath when I joined U.N.C.L.E. and I took that oath - and still take it - very seriously. I was not following the orders they had given me when they sent me to U.N.C.L.E. and they grew impatient. My life was compromised from the beginning of that assignment, being unable to fulfill my commitment to the Soviet Union while fulfilling my commitment to U.N.C.L.E. which I believe in. I had received a message, supposedly from a sister I thought died in the Nazi camp who wanted to join me in America. The KGB later contacted me and told me that they had her and if I wanted to see her, that I had to provide to them the latest U.S. weapons developments and return with them to Russia._

_I obtained the information they wanted, but made a copy, altering them in key areas that would render the information useless. Please see the included pages included here that I was going to hand over to the KGB and compare them with the originals that can be found in the top right drawer of my desk under a stack of reports and you will see that they are not the same. Have Section VIII review them and they will tell you what I was going to hand to them was useless._

_Sir, I don’t expect to be forgiven for what I’ve done and having failed to confide in you or Napoleon. I felt I had to make this look as real as possible so as not to tip off the KGB that they were being given useless information. When I left, I had no expectations of returning as I am aware of the implications of what I would have been doing to U.N.C.L.E, to you, and to Napoleon. I had hoped to have the transaction concluded and be back in Russia before I was caught, but that was not to be._

_I deeply regret my stunning lack of judgement on how I handled this, and I regret that Napoleon had to get involved. I should have confided in him. If I had, this would have had a decidedly better outcome. When he caught up with me on the ferry to Estonia, he had every intention of carrying out his mission, but circumstances dictated otherwise, which he will explain. I ask you to please not hold any of this against Napoleon as he is blameless in all of this. I take full responsibility for everything that’s happened in this horrid affair._

_I will not dispute anything you decide to do with me, as any action you take against me will be justified and understood._

_Thank you for reading this,_

_Illya Kuryakin_

 

Waverly finished reading, then held the enclosed sheets that reportedly held the useless U.S. weapons developments information, regarding them, considering. Napoleon watched him, silently, expectantly. 

“Sir, I can fill in the details on what happened on the ferry and what happened afterwards. Illya was waiting for his KGB contacts, he went belowdecks and I followed him and pushed him into a storage room. I wanted an explanation before I terminated him. He offered no resistance but explained what was going on, saying I should just kill him as I was sent to do. He was going to give me his gun to do it and advised me on how to get off the ferry without being caught. The door burst open and two men charged in. Illya thought it was the KGB and fired on them and killed them. They weren’t KGB, they were U.N.C.L.E. agents, sent to finish the job that I was expected to complete. He thought they were there to kill me and take him and the information he held. The truth is, and I am convinced those pages will confirm, that he is telling the truth.”

Waverly punched a key on the communications console in the conference room and opened a channel to the head of Section VIII in New York. He informed the section head that there was a fax that will be arriving momentarily and that they were to compare its contents with some papers in Kuryakin’s desk, top right drawer under some reports. Everything else they were working on was to be dropped, this was to be their highest priority and he wanted their findings immediately. He placed the pages in the machine and transmitted them to the New York headquarters. 

“Where is Mister Kuryakin now?” he asked Napoleon as the pages were being transmitted.

“Well, sir, he’s in a safe location. He wants to come in, but he wants his story checked out first. I think it’s a good idea.”

“Indeed, Mister Solo. His actions show a startling lack of judgement and trust. It’s disturbing too to learn he was sent as a double agent, whether he fulfilled his assignment by the Soviets or not. This cannot be overlooked.”

“No it can’t,” Napoleon agreed, “but I know Illya, and he takes his oaths and his duty very seriously. His devotion to duty almost defines him. He had a duty to the Soviet Union and he had a duty to U.N.C.L.E. He was in a terrible situation that he tried to make the best of.”

“And do you believe him when he said he didn’t pass anything of consequence, then?”

“I do, sir. You trusted me to be able to find Illya, and I did. Please trust me when I say that I know when he’s lying. He’s not lying. The truth is, it was never considered that he was sent as a double agent. Many had suspicions that he was when he first started in New York, but I am not aware of anyone asking him if he was a double agent. I never asked him and nobody had asked him in my presence. There was no way to tell, but I do believe what he told me.”

Waverly considered his words. He didn’t want to believe that Kuryakin would betray U.N.C.L.E. in this fashion and he trusted Solo’s judgement. He knew how close the two young men were and found himself reluctantly agreeing with Napoleon. 

“Well. In hindsight, it may have been a mistake to send you to kill Mister Kuryakin. He needed to be stopped, of course, but to be brought in to deal with internally. We wouldn’t have lost those two agents I sent to complete your mission.”

“No sir, we wouldn’t. I should have known, but it happened so quickly. We were both expecting the KGB to come looking for him, and when the door opened to the storage room, that was the belief, that it was his KGB contacts come to kill me and take him. Or, if they knew who I was, they’d take me too.”

Waverly sighed and checked his watch. It was nearly an hour since he sent the fax to Section VIII and he was annoyed that he didn’t yet have their report. He poked a button on the communication console and ordered dinner for two to be delivered.

Food on the table, Napoleon filled in Waverly on the rest of what transpired on the ferry and their flight on the boat to Estonia and their experience with the KGB, their flight through Estonia, to Russia, then back to Finland. Impressed, Waverly was becoming more convinced that Napoleon was telling the truth and that perhaps the betrayal wasn’t what it seemed.

Another hour passed before the call from New York came in to the conference room. Waverly answered it immediately, “Well? What is your report?”

“Well sir, we’ve gone through the two sets of documents. The pages you faxed are substantially different from what was found in the desk. The forgery is a work of genius, omissions here, changed values there…”

“Please, just give me your conclusions.”

“Uhh, well sir, the pages you faxed are useless to anyone needing the information from the originals. It would take anyone years to find out that they were garbage, this was very skillfully done. May I ask what’s going on?”

“You may not. Thank you for your report,” and with that, Waverly cut the connection. He turned to Napoleon, “I trust you have the means to contact Mister Kuryakin.”

Napoleon smiled, “I do. May I ask what you intend to do now that you know that his supposed betrayal was not a betrayal at all?”

“That is to be decided Mister Solo. It turns out we don’t have a betrayal, as you say, but there is still the matter of his lack of judgement in handling this and his initial assignment as a double agent.”

Nodding, Napoleon turned the communications panel towards himself and opened a connection to channel F.


	2. A Price to be Paid

The bus trip into Helsinki had gone without incident. There were a few KGB agents at the bus station that apparently weren’t looking for Illya as none of them had identified him as a target. Some skillful brushes against them on Illya’s part yielded some solid cash that they could use both for bus fare and to rent a room near the U.N.C.L.E. office for a few days. This would give Illya a place to hole up while Napoleon went in to talk to Mister Waverly to bargain for at least Napoleon’s safe return to the organization. Napoleon was determined to clear Illya’s name too, a goal that was met with pessimism from his friend. Napoleon had given him his communicator and squeezed his shoulder and patted his cheek as he left, promising he’d be in touch. 

There wasn’t much to do in the room while he spent the hours waiting for Waverly’s arrival and hoping that Napoleon’s being in the office didn’t prompt a search of the surrounding area for him. If he was found before his story could be checked out, they were both sunk. Finally the communicator Napoleon had given him beeped and he answered eagerly and heard Napoleon’s most welcome voice. 

“Illya, it’s safe, your story checked out. Come on in.”

“Confirmed. And… thanks!”

He closed the connection and, quickly checking the hall for lurking agents, either U.N.C.L.E. or KGB, he quietly left the room. Heading down the two blocks to the U.N.C.L.E. office, illya’s eyes scanned for signs of being followed but saw nothing. He entered the cover entrance without incident to his great relief and provided the code words for entrance and was allowed in. Startled, but not surprised, he was met in the reception area by a phalanx of security personnel, guns trained on him. Resigned, he raised his hands, accepting his fate. He was provided a badge, cuffed, then led to an interrogation room. He didn’t resist, saying not a word, then sat when the door was closed behind him and locked. Napoleon said it was safe and ok to come in. Did Waverly lie to him? And where was Napoleon? Fear rose and threatened to overwhelm him that Napoleon was going to be punished for what he himself had done. Misery was his company as he waited for his interrogator to begin work on him.

After a longish wait, the door opened to admit Waverly, who entered without a word and sat across the table from him. Waverly just looked at him with an expression that registered disappointment, tossing a folder on the table in front of him, opening it to peruse its contents. He took his time, thinking to sweat the young man he was confronting.

Illya was not to be sweated. He forced himself to calm, being very familiar with this technique having used it himself on a number of occasions. Waverly sensed this and dropped the pretense.

“Well, Mister Kuryakin. This is quite a mess you’ve engineered for yourself. Congratulations,” he said without any trace of mirth. “A double agent from the beginning, passing information to the Soviets, all the while ingratiating yourself as one of our top agents. What do you have to say for yourself?” He looked up at Illya severely, awaiting his explanation.

“It’s all true, sir. I was under orders to relay information on U.S. military developments during my assignment in America.” 

“And you say you didn’t.”

“I did not. I take seriously the oath I swore when I joined U.N.C.L.E. and it conflicted with the orders I was given when I was sent. I had to give them the appearance that I was giving them information, but they caught on that I wasn’t giving them anything they can use. I take my oaths seriously and I follow orders. I did the best I could because I believe in U.N.C.L.E. and its mission, so I couldn’t obey the orders I was given by my government. I have always followed orders so I compromised. I gave them what was not at all useful.”

“Mister Kuryakin, you do not always follow orders. I know this,” Waverly responded.

“Sir?”

“I have numerous reports of your missions with Mister Solo where he had dismissed you from the mission, that your part in it was completed, yet you failed to comply. Instead you remained.”

Illya stared at him, his expression unreadable.

“And when you disobeyed those orders, you managed to save not only Mister Solo but the mission as well.” He went on, “Your record as an U.N.C.L.E. agent is impeccable. You are Section II number 2, second in line after Mister Solo to succeed me as chief of U.N.C.L.E. New York. How do you defend your actions in these past few weeks as well as your status as a Soviet double agent?”

“I can’t defend the double agent status other than to say those were my orders when I was assigned to U.N.C.L.E.” he started. “That wasn’t my desire at all or my choice. I knew my orders conflicted with U.N.C.L.E.’s mission and charter and I would have preferred to stay in Russia doing what I was doing than to have to live under conflicting loyalties. In the navy, I defended my country, but with U.N.C.L.E. I was defending the world. I defended America as zealously as I defended Germany, England, all of Africa and South America and Asia and Russia. That was my duty. Trying to reconcile my duty to the world with my orders was a difficult conflict. I’m assuming you checked out the papers I had on me with the originals in my desk drawer.”

“I did, yes,” Waverly started, patting himself down only to realize to his displeasure that he did not have his pipe with him. He sighed. “Your story checks out. I fail to understand why you felt the need to take the actions that you did. You put U.N.C.L.E. at great risk with your behavior and that cannot be forgotten.”

“I understand, sir. My reasons for coming in were not to excuse my actions but to ensure Napoleon doesn’t suffer the consequences of what I did. I have no excuse beyond what’s in the letter and the falsified documents I intended to hand over to the KGB. Whatever happens to me, Napoleon must not share any blame. He said he had no idea and I have to believe him.”

Waverly sat back, already decided what he was going to do, but wanted to hear it from Illya. “What happens with Mister Solo need not concern you. The question here, Mister Kuryakin, is what are we going to do with you? How can we trust you now that this information of your status as a double agent has come to light?”

Illya licked his lips, hating the words that he needed to say, “Sir. I want to defect.”

Waverly’s brows furrowed, this was not entirely expected.

“I fully expect to be terminated from U.N.C.L.E. and I don’t blame you for doing it. I’m tired of living a double life and I can’t go back to Russia after not providing the information demanded of me. I would be arrested and most likely executed. I did not betray the United States or U.N.C.L.E., you’ve said yourself that’s been confirmed. I would not be a double agent or a threat if I defected to the United States and renounced all allegiance to the Soviet Union. Even if I’m terminated from U.N.C.L.E., I could become a citizen of the United States. There would be no question of my loyalty. A former Russian naval intelligence officer who is also a scientist defecting to the U.S. might not be unwelcome. Unless the military knew what it looked like I was planning.”

Waverly studied him coolly. “Have you brought this up to Mister Solo, the matter of your defection?” he asked.

“I have, at the time I showed him the letter and described what I was proposing in coming here.”

Waverly grunted, nodding. “Very well, Mister Kuryakin, we will see if your defection can be arranged.”

He picked up the folder in front of him and knocked on the door to be let out.

***

Napoleon watched the proceedings in the interrogation room with some pain, knowing now what it cost Illya to be sent as a double agent and trying to live two conflicting lives, U.N.C.L.E. apparently the winner in the battle for Illya’s loyalties. He knew how much Illya loved his country. He was as much a Russian patriot as Napoleon was of America so choosing to defect had to be a wrenching decision. It was one that had to be made though, a man could not comfortably live with divided loyalties like Illya had to all these years and his life would be brought to an end if he went back. Napoleon felt he understood his friend better after learning this. His heart broke at the thought of the conflict Illya had been living with all these years.

Waverly entered the room where Napoleon and Laine were watching, Laine’s mouth agape. 

Laine stammered, “I - I had no idea. Kuryakin? A double agent? Impossible, I can’t believe it.”

“This information is not to leave this room,” Waverly ordered. “I am convinced it’s not Mister Kuryakin who can’t be trusted, it’s the people who sent him. His record has been exemplary. I had it checked on my way here and our intelligence has noted no breaches in security with respect to information provided to the Soviets that could come from any information Mister Kuryakin or U.N.C.L.E. was privy to. No, he told the truth. There must be consequences for his handling of this particular affair of his, but he has caused no damage to U.S. or any other nation’s security. Mister Solo,” he said, turning to Napoleon, “what are your thoughts on Mister Kuryakin’s stated intention to defect? I have to ask, do you believe him?”

“I do. I believed him when he told me in the woods and I believe him now. We won’t see this happening again, I would say he’s learned his lesson.”

“A hard lesson indeed,” agreed Waverly. “Under the circumstances we have with the KGB searching for Mister Kuryakin, it would be prudent to take our own jet back to New York. Mister Laine, please have your secretary arrange for the jet to be made ready, I would like to leave in less than two hours.”

Laine picked up the handset of the phone on the wall and relayed Waverly’s order to the flight crew, who sprang into action. Then he turned to Napoleon, “Mister Solo, do you know if Mister Kuryakin has eaten?”

Napoleon realized that neither of them had eaten that day except the early dinner that he had in the conference room with Waverly, “Uhh, he hasn’t. We didn’t have breakfast this morning. We needed to get him out of sight as quickly as possible and he wouldn’t have left the room, so he hasn’t eaten. Can we bring him something?”

“There won’t be time for much more than a sandwich,” Laine mused. “I’ll have one brought to him in the conference room. He doesn’t need to stay in the interrogation room, does he Mister Waverly?”

“No, he can be released. Thank you. We won’t be seeing any more shenanigans from Mister Kuryakin.” To Napoleon, “You may escort him to the conference room to wait for our departure.”

“What are you going to do, sir? What’s going to happen to Illya?” Napoleon asked with no little anxiety.

“We are all three of us going to return to New York immediately, Mister Kuryakin to remain as our guest at headquarters for the time being seeing as we need to keep the KGB away from him. I will contact Immigration and the State Department to start proceedings to process his defection. After that, there will be disciplinary action taken against him for his lapse of judgement to be sure. Oh, Mister Solo, your position is quite secure. Mister Kuryakin needn’t worry about that, and neither should you.”

“Thank you sir,” Napoleon responded, relieved. “May I go in and see him now?”

“Yes of course. You and the gentleman from Security can escort him to the conference room. I will be in to collect you both shortly.” and with that, Waverly strode from the room, Laine following.

Security followed Napoleon into the interrogation room, Illya looking up at them, his expression guarded. Napoleon tried not to smile, wishing to exact his own small revenge for what the Russian had put him through, but his face broke as the guard unlocked Illya’s cuffs and bid him stand and come with him. Napoleon clapped him on the shoulder and told him they were going to the conference room where dinner was going to be brought to him, then he would be returning to New York with Mister Waverly and himself. 

Illya was guided into the conference room ahead of Napoleon, a thick turkey sandwich was waiting for him. He sat and ate hungrily, the guard retreating to leave him alone with Napoleon. 

Napoleon watched him eat, starting to relax after the horror of the last week. It was going to take time to heal from the wrenching pain of Illya’s alleged betrayal. His musings were interrupted when he noticed his friend watching him while he engulfed his lunch. 

“Napoleon,” Illya started, finishing off his dinner. “I am so sorry about everything I put you through. I’ve been going through everything I’ve done for the past week and I realize I messed up badly. I’ll probably be sent back to Russia for this and I wouldn’t blame Mister Waverly if he did.”

Napoleon studied him for a moment, “But you can't go back, can you?”

After a moment, “I would no doubt be arrested. I was assigned to pass secrets when I was sent to U.N.C.L.E. and I didn’t do that. This latest attempt to obtain information from me failed, so my government is very unhappy with me right now. They would kill me, or if they were VERY annoyed, they’d kill me slowly in the gulag.”

Napoleon shuddered. He didn’t know much about that place, only that it was an exile for people who displeased the government in some fashion. Illya never talked about it and Napoleon never asked, he just knew that he would move heaven and earth to keep Illya out of that place.

***

The car that transported Waverly, Napoleon and Illya to the airport was followed, their tail picking them up a few blocks after they left the U.N.C.L.E. office in Helsinki. The agent driving called it in and other U.N.C.L.E. vehicles intercepted the tail and delayed them enough so Waverly’s vehicle could make it to the airport and the U.N.C.L.E. plane. This dance was repeated twice before they arrived at the hangar. Once they had boarded and were settled in, the pilot announced that they would be leaving shortly as they were taxiing to the runway.

Napoleon and Illya were saying little during the flight, both lost in their own thoughts and occasionally dozing. Waverly spent the first half of the flight with the communicator, contacting various government agencies as well as headquarters’ section heads. He wanted to be up to speed on everything that was happening when they landed in New York. With a sigh, he reached for his pipe, loading it with the fragrant tobacco he pulled from a pouch in his breast pocket. He was not a happy man as he sat scowling, lighting his pipe. He paused, then rang for the attendant and spoke to her briefly. Waverly had one more call to make as she headed towards the cockpit.

Illya was dozing when Napoleon put down the magazine he was staring at and saw Waverly smoking his pipe, off the communicator, at least for now. He rose gingerly, careful to avoid disturbing his partner and moved quietly up to the table with the communications equipment on it where Waverly was sitting. 

“How is everything, sir?” he asked. From the expression on Waverly’s face, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“Not well, Mister Solo. Not at all well.” 

Waverly pulled over a notebook he had been writing in from his notes on his communications on the plane. “Immigration is refusing Mister Kuryakin’s request for asylum. The Soviet military is recalling him to active duty, saying his assignment with U.N.C.L.E. is over and they want him back. Immigration and the whole US State Department is not willing to provoke a flareup of tensions over this matter. Despite the events of this past week, relations between our two countries has improved somewhat and there is a certain reluctance to rock that particular boat. He is to be immediately handed over to the Russians upon our return to New York. The KGB will be meeting us on the landing field to escort him back to Moscow.”

Napoleon’s blood ran cold. The noise of the plane’s engines and hiss of the environmental system faded into silence, as if he had been suddenly wrapped in a thick layer of snow. He swallowed hard, _Illya’s going to be sent back to the Soviet Union to die and I’ll never see him again!_ “Uuhhhh, Mister Waverly…” he began.

“Yes, yes I know full well what is likely to happen to him back in Russia,” Waverly said with no little annoyance. “I also know full well that even if Mister Kuryakin hadn’t pulled this stunt the result would be the same. Russian military wants him back, he didn’t fulfill his mission they gave him when they loaned him to U.N.C.L.E. so he’ll have to pay the price with them.” Waverly relighted his pipe which had gone out. “No Mister Solo, as soon as we arrive in New York, the KGB will collect Mister Kuryakin and return with him to the Soviet Union where we'll likely never hear from him again.”

Napoleon turned to look at his sleeping friend. Illya was relaxed, his expression blank and seemingly untroubled. _He has no idea_ , Napoleon despaired. He felt suddenly trapped, unwilling to hand his friend over to the Soviets, but almost equally unwilling to do what he would need to do to get him out of there once they've landed. _We’re going to wind up living on the run after all_ , he thought bitterly, and started mentally preparing himself for the thought. Maybe they can make their way to Canada, lose themselves in the Canadian wilderness. Find a small town to settle in until the Russians and the Americans closed in forcing them to move on. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

Waverly was gazing out the window at the full moon reflecting off the top of the cloud cover below. Napoleon glanced back at Illya then at his watch, moves that were noticed by Waverly who turned and regarded him over his pipe. 

“We’re almost there,” Napoleon said.

“Indeed, Mister Solo.”

“One more hour till we land in New York,” Napoleon said, steeling himself. He was going to have to warn Illya and have him ready to go as soon as they landed.

“It certainly would be,” said Waverly, watching him. ‘If we were landing in New York.”

“Excuse me sir?” Napoleons train of thought came to a screeching halt. He guarded against the sudden hope that had sprung up, coiled and ready to strike lest it be dashed by the rest of what Waverly had to say.

“We are diverting to Ottawa, Mister Solo. I feel the need to pay a visit to our eastern Canadian office for a day or two. The Russians can wait,” said Waverly with what looked like a twinkle in his eye, a slow smile spreading across his face. He checked his own watch, “I think it’s about time Mister Kuryakin joined us, we’ll be landing in Ottawa soon and we have much to discuss.”

***

The three men were put up for the night at the home of an acquaintance of Waverly’s. Napoleon told Illya he believed Waverly was saving money after the expense of using U.N.C.L.E.’s plane to fly the three of them back from Finland, a belief that Illya also shared.

When they reached the U.N.C.L.E. office the next morning, a quick phone call to Canadian Immigration authorities resulted in a nearly immediate visit from Immigration, the agent interviewing Illya in one of their smaller conference rooms. Mrs Marie Carbonell, a neatly dressed, slender redhead, asked probing questions which Illya answered honestly and completely. Waverly was there with him to provide testimony of Illya’s performance as an U.N.C.L.E. agent as well as his current status with the Russian government. Carbonell was very familiar with U.N.C.L.E. and the work they did and she was impressed by Waverly’s reference as well as Illya’s credentials and record. An U.N.C.L.E. notary was brought in to witness the document signings by both Illya and Carbonell. 

The final stamp was made and initialed, an entry was logged and the book closed by the smiling notary. Waverly dismissed the young lady with his thanks and she left the room. 

Carbonell rose, smiling, Waverly and Illya rising with her. “Welcome to Canada, Mister Kuryakin. I am heading straight back to my office and will file this paperwork. Your asylum is granted, effective immediately. Nobody can legally remove you from the country as a Canadian citizen.” She handed him a card, “Keep this with you. This identifies you as a legal resident of Canada until we can issue your permanent identification.” She shook hands all around and bidding them goodbye and Illya good luck, she left.

Napoleon was standing just outside the door and poked his head in after thoroughly checking out the retreating Carbonell. “Well?”

Illya was examining the card he was handed then looked up at Napoleon, smiling broadly. “I can stay!”

***

True to his word, Waverly did impose punishment on Illya for his deception and apparent betrayal - two months’ leave without pay. Napoleon and Illya both winced at the penalty, but considering how much worse it could have been, neither complained.

Illya stayed behind in Ottawa when Napoleon and Waverly returned to New York, Waverly wanting to make sure that the American and Soviet governments were duly notified that Illya is now Canadian and was not to be touched. The U.S. government was sanguine. They were perfectly happy to deprive the Soviet Union of one of their scientists and military officers, particularly since they didn’t have to be the government to take him. Hey, sorry you lost out but it wasn’t us. Tough luck there, Russia. 

The Soviets complained mightily for a few days then dropped the matter, having bigger concerns brewing internally. Secretly, there were regrets at losing Illya by some individuals in the halls of the Kremlin and the Russian Navy, but among at least a few of those, there were most of all regrets that he was given that double agent mission to begin with. Not all agreed with the decision to compromise U.N.C.L.E. by sending a double agent and those who knew Illya well knew that he would not be able to carry that out.

Napoleon was in his office finishing up the report for his latest mission that he had run with one of the junior agents who he found to be very promising. The job went well and the kid was very bright, independent and talented. He chuckled at the thought of this young man, _he’s no Illya, but he’s going places_. He put down his pen when the phone rang. He answered and to his delight found it was Illya who was still in Ottawa.

“Hey, Illya! How are you?”

“Bored!” came the annoyed reply. “I have another month of leave and I’m climbing the walls.”

Napoleon chuckled, “Ottawa’s a beautiful city, you mean to tell me you can’t find anything to do?”

“I picked up some work as a translator with the tourism board here,” Illya replied. “It’s actually all right, I just want to get back to the field. Also I miss New York.”

“I understand. It won’t be too much longer, my friend, hang in there. Listen, I have a few days off next week, I was thinking about flying up. You going to be available?”

He heard the smile in Illya’s voice, “Most definitely. Maybe I’ll show you around, I’m betting there are places here you haven’t seen.”

The partners chatted for a few more minutes, Illya telling Napoleon that he’s received his permanent Canadian credentials and can now travel freely throughout the world, even if it would be a good idea to avoid the countries in the Soviet bloc. Napoleon noted with pleasure that Illya’s voice sounded more relaxed than it did before. In fact, in the few days he spent in Ottawa after Illya’s defection, he noticed that Illya’s demeanor had changed subtly. He seemed more relaxed, which pleased Napoleon greatly.

“You’ll be back in New York before you know it,” Napoleon smiled. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, see you soon. And Napoleon… Thank you!”


End file.
